


California Dreaming

by jooliewrites



Series: Season 2 Coliver Codas [12]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Coda, Domestic Fluff, Episode Related, Episode: s02e12 It's a Trap, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As promised, Oliver thought about it.</p>
<p>“Where would we live?” he whispered later that night.</p>
<p>At Oliver’s soft question, Connor’s eyes opened. “I don’t know.” He risked a glance at Oliver’s profile. “An apartment?”</p>
<p>“Yeah…but where?” Oliver too glanced at Connor and their gaze held. “I don’t anything about Stanford. Or Silicon Valley…”</p>
<p>“I don’t either,” Connor offered.</p>
<p>Right then, Oliver wanted to press, wanted to ask <i>Then why are you applying there? Why there of all the law schools in the country? Why are you asking us to move thousands of miles away? What has happened to bring this all on out the blue?</i> But instead, Oliver looked back up at the ceiling to keep the questions from slipping out.</p>
<p>+</p>
<p>A Coliver 2x12 Coda</p>
            </blockquote>





	California Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/140175900058/a-coliver-2x12-coda-an-sorries-this-is-so-late)

As promised, Oliver thought about it.

* * *

 

“Where would we live?” he whispered later that night.

They’d gone to bed ages ago but neither slept. Oliver was on his back, one hand thrown over his head and the other on his chest. His fingers kept drumming softly, tapping out the rhythm to a song stuck in the back of Oliver’s head; he couldn’t remember the words at the moment but the beat of it circled through his mind as his thoughts continued to whirl.

Connor was on his side but still close; one pillow tucked under his cheek with another held tight to his chest. He’d shifted away a bit after they said goodnight, getting comfortable and settling in for sleep. His eyes were screwed shut but Oliver could tell by Connor’s breath that he was still up too; it was too deep and deliberate, each inhale too calculated. Connor was faking sleep so Oliver figured Connor’s mind was still racing too.

At Oliver’s soft question, Connor’s eyes opened. “I don’t know.” He risked a glance at Oliver’s profile. “An apartment?”

“Yeah…but where?” Oliver too glanced at Connor and their gaze held. “I don’t anything about Stanford. Or Silicon Valley…”

“I don’t either,” Connor offered.

Right then, Oliver wanted to press, wanted to ask _Then why are you applying there? Why there of all the law schools in the country? Why are you asking us to move thousands of miles away? What has happened to bring this all on out the blue?_ But instead, Oliver looked back up at the ceiling to keep the questions from slipping out.

The air between them felt charged just then, like the whole atmosphere of 303 could change in an instant, and Oliver didn’t want the quiet night to devolve into stony silences or heated exchanges. If this – Connor transferring schools and the two of them moving across the county – was a real possibility, they needed to start talking about it, really talking about it.

“Besides,” Connor interrupted Oliver’s train of thought. “You had a point earlier. Let’s just see if I get in first.”

“You’ll get in,” Oliver was quick to say.

“No, you were–”

“No. I wrong before,” Oliver insisted. He turned on his side so they faced each other but Connor wouldn’t look at him. “You blindsided me with all of it. Transferring and…and moving across the country and serial killers having our home address. It was…I just…” Oliver couldn’t land on the right word. _I felt cornered. Scared. Panicked. Afraid. Defensive. Worried. Nervous._ “I didn’t know what to say,” Oliver eventually settled on. “But I was wrong to say that.” Connor’s eyes finally risked a glance at Oliver’s and Oliver held his gaze. “You’ll get in, Connor. I know you will.”

Oliver watched the play of emotion on Connor’s face. He could see Connor start to object, almost hear the self-deprecating remark fall from Connor’s lips, but instead Connor whispered a soft and hesitant, “You really think so?”

Oliver nodded without an ounce of hesitation. “Yeah. I really really do.”

At that, Connor scooted in closer, tucking into Oliver and lighting curling fingertips onto the faded grey cotton of Oliver’s t-shirt. Oliver kissed Connor’s forehead and circled an arm around Connor’s waist, pulling them even closer together.

“That still leaves my question,” Oliver said into the comfortable stillness. “Where would we live?”

Connor curled his fingers a little tighter into Oliver’s shirt. “Does this mean you’ll come?”

Staring into Connor’s eyes, Oliver already knew the answer. Fears and reservations aside, Oliver knew he’d follow where Connor went. Just as he suspected, Connor would willingly stay in Philadelphia if he, Oliver, really didn’t want to move (albeit probably not in this apartment, Connor did have a point about the serial killer).

There really wasn’t an option anymore for either of them; the time for individual choices had passed. They’d chosen each other. Regardless of what it said on the mailbox, Oliver would be where Connor was.

“Ollie?” Connor prompted when Oliver didn’t answer right away. “Will you come with me?”

Yes, he’d come if Connor went, but Oliver still had questions and concerns. They still needed to talk about it.

“Yes but…but there’s still a lot to think about,” Oliver told him truthfully.

“Well, what are you thinking about?” Connor asked, afraid and unsure of what Oliver would say.

Not for the first time since they’d started, Connor was awed by the power Oliver had over him. Not power Oliver had taken or demanded, power Connor had freely given. He, Connor, would do anything get Oliver to come, anything to keep Oliver safe. That sacrifice made one vulnerable. Oliver could demand the moon and Connor would do whatever it took to lasso it down from the heavens.

“What would our lives would be like? Like, yoga aside, what do you think it really would be like out there? We don’t know anyone. We don’t have any friends or family or anyone. What if we get sick of each other? What if you realize I’m not worth it? Or what if you find someone else? What if I–we don’t make any friends? What if you’re working all the time again and I’m just all by myself? And then, it’s just…I mean, could we even afford it? Like, what does gas cost out there? What is rent? Do we even need both our cars? What do we do with all of our stuff? Does is get put in storage or do we move it all? Do we want to move it all? What about my lease and your subletter and….and where would we live?” Oliver caught his breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t ask any of it really seeking answers; it was more just a need to have the questions spoken out loud. “Connor, where would we live?”

“Together,” Connor answerer without thinking about it. “We are going live together in a fabulous apartment.”

“Really?” Oliver snorted and rubbed a knuckle over his eye, ashamed of the tear that threatened to fall. “I ask all that and you answer with a fabulous?”

“Yeah. Because, our apartment is going to be fabulous. And…” Connor tugged at Oliver’s shirt a little to pull his gaze back when Oliver looked away. “And that’s the only question that matters.”

“But, Con–”

“No. Enough.” Connor’s tone was steel and his eyes were set in stone. “We’re going to be together. And you are going to make tons of friends because you’re Oliver and everyone loves you. And I am never going to get tired of you so never say that again. And…” Connor trailed off with a shrug. “And the rest of it will all work out because at the end all that matters is you and me, being together, in our fabulous apartment.”

Oliver snorted again but it was somehow fond this time. “You’re sticking with fabulous?”

“Yes, Ollie. _Fabulous_ ,” Connor said again with the wiggle of an eyebrow. “Our fabulous, ocean view apartment with a balcony.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Our apartment has an ocean view now?”

“Of course,” Connor told him. “We’re going to be in California. What’s the point of living there if you can’t see the ocean every morning?”

“Okay. So, back to one of my questions, how do you think we’re going to afford living in this ocean view apartment?”

“That kind of stuff doesn’t matter right now,” Connor shrugged.

“I disagree,” Oliver began. “I think that stuff really–”

“Not tonight,” Connor whispered with a sudden edge of desperation that sent a chill down Oliver’s spine. Out of nowhere, Connor was clinging to Oliver’s shirt and the look in his eyes was wild. Something more was going on. Something bad. Something Connor wasn’t telling him.

“Not tonight, Ollie,” Connor begged desperately. “Just dreams tonight.”

Oliver licked his lips and lifted a hand to cup Connor’s cheek. He ran a thumb along Connor’s jaw and wished he knew how to banish the sudden, inexplicable, worry in Connor’s eyes.

“It’s a two-bedroom apartment,” Oliver whispered, playing along and hoping it helped. “For when my parents come to visit.”

Connor nodded. “And my sister. And her kids.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Oliver agreed. “Whenever they want.” Oliver didn’t stop cupping Connor’s cheek. Connor looked a little calmer but the look in his eyes still unnerved. So Oliver took it a step further, “Can our apartment have a fireplace?”

Seeing the question for what it was, a rope thrown to save him from slipping under, Connor smiled gratefully. How did Oliver understand him so intuitively? “Sure,” Connor whispered. “But it’s really hot in California. Why would we need a fireplace?”

“You know. For ambiance,” Oliver said with an overblown wink.

Connor laughed and it only sounded a little bit desperate. “Alright, an ocean view, two-bedroom with a fireplace.”

“And two parking spaces,” Oliver added.

“Good call,” Connor said. He settled down, resting his arms on Oliver’s chest and pillowing his chin on them. “Oh! In-unit washer-dryer.”

“Dishwasher.”

“Elevator,” Connor countered.

“Elevator?” Oliver cocked his head. “I thought we were worried about toning our asses. Stairs would help with that.”

“ _Yoga_ is for toning our asses, Ollie,” Connor explained. “I’m sick of climbing stairs at the end of the night. I want an elevator.”

“Fine. Then I want a pet-friendly building.”

“Deal.” Connor laid his check on Oliver’s chest and let himself picture it, picture the dream. “An ocean-view, two-bedroom with a fireplace, with a washer-dryer and dishwasher with two parking spaces in a building with an elevator that is also pet-friendly for our dog. That should be totally easy to find.”

“Definitely.” Oliver smiled, free with it as the dream swept him away too. “And we aren’t getting a dog,” he clarified. “We’re getting a cat.”

“What!” Connor’s head shot up at that. “You want a pet-friendly building so we can get a cat?”

“Yes.”

“Oliver,” Connor sighed out, letting his forehead fall heavy on Oliver’s chest.

“What? You get an elevator and I get a cat. Everyone wins,” Oliver rationalized.

With a grumble of “It’s gonna get cat hair everywhere,” Connor settled back down, tucked into Oliver’s side and resting his cheek down on Oliver’s chest.

He could picture it all now too. The idea of running away with Oliver wasn’t thin anymore; it was full of life and color. He could see them settling into that dream of an apartment. He could see coming home at the end of a long day of class to Oliver cooking dinner with a cat weaving between Oliver’s legs as he cooked. Connor could see himself keeping dinner warm in the oven for the inevitable days Oliver stayed late at work. He’d keep Oliver company once he got home while Oliver ate cooling roast beef and complained about things so complex and technical Connor couldn’t follow them. They’d spend weekends outdoors enjoying the sunshine and the warmth and the freedom.

They’d be so free.

“Hey, can we go to Disneyland?”

At Oliver’s soft question, Connor lifted his head again. “Hmm?”

“Disneyland,” Oliver repeated. “When we get out there and get settled and everything. And when you have a break or something, can we go down to Disneyland?”

"Yeah. Of course,” Connor said. "Have you ever been?”

Oliver shook his head. “My parents were gonna take us when we were kids but…”

“What happened?”

“My uncle died, Oliver explained. "Then my dad lost his job and mom’s hours were cut.”

Oliver finished the story with a shrug and his face was blank, set into a practiced mask, but Connor could see through the attempts at nonchalance. Even with Oliver’s eyes down, avoiding and evading, Connor could see how much Oliver wanted to go as a child and still wanted to go now.

Oliver really wanted to go and Connor could picture that too, he and Oliver at the happiest place on Earth.

Oliver would get a guidebook and flag pages with things he wanted to do or tips to remember and plan their day down to the minute. Then, even with the schedule memorized, he’d insist on carrying the book around all day. He’d too probably make them get those mouse ear hats with their names on the back and they’d spend hours in line so Oliver could ride everything. Connor imagined how Oliver would make them pose for pictures all day and get to the parade route an hour early to scope out the good seats. As day gave way to night and the temperature started to dip, they’d huddle in close. Connor figured he probably wouldn’t have brought a sweatshirt (because “It’s going to be 90, Ollie!”) but Oliver would catch the way Connor would try to suppressed his chills. Ollie wouldn’t say a word about it but would simply open up the backpack to offer Connor his own hoodie that he’d packed. Bundled in his borrowed sweatshirt, Connor would wrap an arm around Oliver’s shoulders as they watched the fireworks show and then they’d walk hand in hand back to the car. Exhausted but exhilarated, they’d sleep well that night, dreaming of magic and wonder and fireworks.

“Yeah, Ollie,” Connor whispered, a little surprised at how much he wanted all that too. “We can go to Disneyland.”

Oliver’s smile was wide. “And Universal.”

Connor snorted. “And Universal.”

“And Knott’s Berry Farm.”

“We’ll hit ‘em all.”

“Okay.” Oliver’s smile softened and Connor tucked back into Oliver’s side. “Good.”

Connor trailed fingertips in random lines and squiggles on Oliver’s chest. “Any other requests?”

“Well…” Oliver brushed an absent hand through Connor’s hair as he thought. “Since we’ll be right there, I’d like to really see San Francisco.”

Connor hummed in agreement. “The bridge.”

“And Fisherman’s Wharf,” Oliver added.

“Oh! And Alcatraz,” Connor said. “We’ve got to do that.”

“The Castro too,” Oliver threw in. “And I want to see Hearst Castle.”

Connor nodded. It all sounded so perfect. Too perfect. “I wanna drive along the coast.”

“Yeah!” Connor’s head popped up at Oliver’s enthusiasm and he smiled at the glee shining on Oliver’s face. “We could rent a convertible. Drive down…what is that road?”

“Route 1, I think?” Connor answered, unsure but Oliver nodded so at least they were on the same page even if they weren’t 100% on the details. “Stop at Big Sur.”

“Hike Joshua Tree.”

“See the Redwoods.”

“Learn to surf in Malibu.” Oliver said.

“I know how to surf,” Connor told him.

“Really? There are waves in Michigan?” Oliver deadpanned.

“No, smart ass.” Connor leveled Oliver a look. “And I don’t, like, _know_ know but I’ve had lessons. A lesson.” Connor explained.

Oliver tilted his head. “When did you have this lesson?”

“When I was a kid,” Connor answered.

“Okay.” Oliver was still puzzled. “But where?”

“We were in the Bahamas. I was…I don’t know, like ten or something.”

“They get waves big enough to surf on in the Bahamas?” Oliver didn’t know that.

“Well, I don’t know. The lessons wasn’t in the ocean. We had it on the cruise ship.”

“You learned how to surf on a cruise ship,” Oliver said it slow, letting Connor really hear what he was saying.

“Yeah,” Connor said, totally oblivious. “They had this pool thing.”

“You learned how to surf in a pool.”

“Not like a _pool_ pool, Oliver. It had waves and stuff.”

Oliver bit his lip to hold back his smile. “Can’t they, like, control how big the waves are and–?”

“Hey! I know how to surf, all right? I stood up and everything.” Connor didn’t like where this was going. “You call Gemma and ask. We learned. I stood up. She didn’t stand up.”

“No. No.” Oliver raised a hand in defeat. “I believe you.”

Oliver was such a liar. “No you don’t!” Connor protested. “You’ll see. I’ll show you.”

“Okay,” Oliver conceded. “We’ll go to Malibu and you’ll show me how you can surf.”

“Well, maybe not Malibu,” Connor hedged. Professionals surfed in Malibu. “But a different beach! We’ll go and I’ll show you.”

“Okay. We’ll find a beach and you’ll show me how you can stand up,” Oliver agreed.

Oliver was placating him and Connor didn’t care for it. “Screw you,” he mumbled, even as he shifted to lay back down and tucked an arm around to hold Oliver close. “I know how to surf.”

“I know.”

“I do, Oliver.”

“I know, Con.” Oliver hid his smile in Connor’s hair. “I know.”

With Connor tucked in close to his side and some of his fears at least given voice, if not totally abetted, Oliver started to doze. He was soon fast asleep, dreams of ocean views and lazy Sundays covered in sunlight dancing behind his eyelids.

But Connor remained awake with visions of a life in California keeping him alert.

They could be free.

They could be safe and sound and effortlessly free.

They could sleep every night with all the windows open; the sound of the crashing surf would be their lullaby. Connor wouldn’t spend every moment glancing over his shoulder or waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could spend every moment looking at Oliver, being with Oliver, loving Oliver.

They could have an apartment near campus, but not too close. Connor would get a boring, unassuming internship with some company somewhere and Oliver would get a job doing whatever tech thing it was Oliver did. The first few years would be hard, with Oliver starting over in a new city and Connor finishing school then starting his career, but they’d eventually find their stride.

Maybe a few years down the line, they could move into a condo. Something with a bit more space, maybe the hint of a yard. Something with an extra guest bedroom or office that could easily be changed into something else. Some room with pale green or yellow walls that they’d fill with little shoes and little clothes and little furniture.

Maybe a few years after that they’d move to a small house. Maybe their realtor would call it a starter house. Maybe that house would have an actual yard with trees for things like tire swings and decks for eating dinners outside. Maybe that house could have two rooms with pale green walls that could be filled with even more little clothes and little dressers and little toys. They would finally have enough room for Oliver to have his cat and Connor to have his dog. The house would have a fridge big enough to hang artwork and report cards and invitations to weddings and birthday parties. There’d be a basement they’d talk about finishing but really they just use it for storage. They’d join carpools and their weekends would be filled with soccer practice and running errands.

Maybe too in that wanna be starter house they’d turned into their forever house, there’d be a spot on the living room where one of those little ones drew on the wall with permanent marker and, despite everything, they never quite got the stain out. Connor imagined himself, with distinguished grey and a smattering of wrinkles, looking at that stain when that all grown-up little one asked to borrow the car. He’d stare at it while he listened to the garage door open and the engine rev. Oliver would join him, circling his arms around Connor’s waist and notching his chin on Connor’s shoulder, while they both listened to a car being slowly backed out of the driveway. “We did good,” Oliver would whisper as the garage door closed. “We did really good, Con.”

He could see it. Right then, with Oliver sleeping in his arms, Connor could see all of it. The California dream stretched out before him.

It would be more than living. It would be a _life_. He and Oliver would build a life. A life free of videos and blood and hacking and Annalise Keating  & Associates.

Connor buried his face in Oliver’s side and breathed in deep.

They were going to have that life. Connor was going to make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com)


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